Ted Davis: …but don’t get her drunk. If you get her drunk,
[alluringly]
Ted Davis: she loses control!
Walter Davis: Ted, are we talking a loss of inhibitions here, or does she pee on the floor? — From Blind Date (1987)
Perhaps I should just face the facts: When a hot woman about 15 years my junior asks me out and offers to pay, then all kinds of red flags and warning bells should start going off. Right? I say that primarily because I don’t date a lot these days. Most of it has to do with money. The place in which I live is hardly a babe magnet for one thing. I feel old somewhat, sometimes, for another. And yet another fact is that all my exes — whether they live in Texas or elsewhere — are still exes.
But as I live and breeze this nice-looking gal with the most stunning brown eyes I have seen in … weeks … months …. whenever … came by to see me last night just as I had given up on watching the Cowboys go up in flames like a cheap Chinese toy. It wasn’t a blind date, I knew the woman as she had previously dated a neighbor, but the night did turn out to be in some respects like Blind Date, the movie in which Bruce Willis is escorted by Kim Bassinger who has a really, really bad reaction after drinking booze.
“Dee,” as I shall call her wanted to go to a nearby bar, have a couple of drinks and shoot some pool. I was okay with that except the government decided to pay about five days late which hopefully will turn out to be Wednesday. No problem says Dee.
So we go to a place just up the street have a couple of beers and things are going rather swimmingly, said the sailor. For whatever reasons, a change of scenery or not much happening or take your pick, we decide to go up to another bar up the street.
Dee buys us both another drink. By this point we had been getting along very well indeed, better than I would have imagined. She decided to buy some cigarettes and then went outside to smoke. Without a sign, without warning, without so much as a “kiss my a**” things start to go South. She had maybe a total of four drinks that I saw and was fast on the highway to getting plastered. Perhaps she had been drinking all afternoon. If so, she didn’t act as if she had when she first came by. The next thing I know she is powdering her face for some biker on the other side of the bar. I said to myself: “Nope.” I told her I was out of there and she said she would see me “tomorrow.” I haven’t seen her today, not that it matters, no matter how amusing it might be for me.
I thought briefly about leaving her there in the bar but not much more than briefly. She didn’t make a big deal about me leaving and neither did I. I also figured that the patrons there probably had more to fear from her than vice versa. I’m sorry. No, I am not sorry. I have heard too many country tunes and have been witness to many a domestic dispute a couple of which involved the very same good-looking woman who asked me out. Kenny Rogers is damn straight. You got to know when to hold them and know when to fold them. And since I had no losses to cut. I quit and walked out, this time, ahead.